Shatter Me
by Everon Prime
Summary: You can only live in a world surrounded by glass for so long before something comes along and shatters it.
1. First Position

_**Author's Notes:**_

**Soooo... I really should be working on my other story, but the newest chapter is giving me trouble. Then I got Lindsey Stirling's newest album... which spawned this story, which I'm already plotting out and everything in my head... **

**Yeah, I'm screwed.**

**But, I'm also excited about it because this story is much better developed and prepared. **

**So, without further ado, I give you my first chapter! Enjoy!**

* * *

_"I pirouette in the dark  
__I see the stars through me  
__Tired mechanical heart  
__Beats 'til the song disappears_

_"Somebody shine a light  
__I'm frozen by the fear in me  
__Somebody make me feel alive  
__And shatter me  
__So cut me from the line  
__Dizzy, spinning endlessly  
__Somebody make me feel alive  
__And shatter me!_

_"Shatter me!  
__Somebody make me feel alive  
__And shatter me!_

_"If only the clockwork could speak  
__I wouldn't be so alone  
__We'd burn every magnet and spring  
__And spiral into the unknown_

_"Somebody shine a light  
__I'm frozen by the fear in me  
__Somebody make me feel alive  
__And shatter me  
__So cut me from the line  
__Dizzy, spinning endlessly  
__Somebody make me feel alive  
__And shatter me!_

_"If I break the glass, then I'll have to fly  
__There's no one to catch me if I take a dive  
__I'm scared of change, and the days stay the same  
__The world is spinning but only in gray  
__If I break the glass, then I'll have to fly  
__There's no one to catch me if I take a dive  
__I'm scared of change, and the days stay the same  
__The world is spinning but only in gray_

_(Only...)_

_"Somebody shine a light  
__I'm frozen by the fear in me  
__Somebody make me feel alive  
__And shatter me  
__So cut me from the line  
__Dizzy, spinning endlessly  
__Somebody make me feel alive  
__And shatter me!_

_"Me...!  
_

_"Shatter me!_

_"Somebody make me feel alive  
__And shatter me!"_

_By Lindsey Sterling, featuring Lzzy Hale_

* * *

The night waned on, wind whistling through the tall grains and grass of the surrounding fields and filling the endless silence, the only sound sans the faint sounds of dying embers crackling along the old, worn wood of the once proud framework. Broken, pine planks and twisted metal scraps pile amongst the wreckage, the only real structure left to the destroyed farmhouse being the front view of the porch.

A brick staircase, worn with age, led up with elegantly crafted metal railings, once shining proudly with their white paint, a paint that was well kept but now ruined with smudges of soot. The scene ended with two, tall pillars at the top of the porch, standing regal and untouched, unlike the rest of the structure. The last piece that gave the site any hint that this place was once a beautiful home, one that people could have happily lived out the rest of their days in.

But, attention must now turn away from the macabre scene; away from the dying embers and their reddish glow amongst the farmhouse's remains. Turned away to the figure about a hundred yards away, of a woman watching on with glazed eyes, smudged soot on her skin and night clothes, barefoot and slightly singed with the wind whipping her raven black hair in her face as she stood staring at the ruin of the place.

The ruin of her home.

But, she held no strong remorse for her childhood home. A little. But not much. The place hadn't really been a home for a while now. A home shouldn't be empty. She had all that mattered of the place, all that mattered in that single oak box that she clutched ever so close to her chest.

But still, even with little remorse, she stood still, unable to move, to think, her heart racing, her body tense, stuck in some realm between fight or flight, adrenaline still rushing through system as she tried to remember how to breathe. Her hand shot up to her neck, grasping it clumsily as she choked out a broken sound and felt for that familiar feeling, trying to calm herself. And eventually, she found it, and she was able to breathe again, running her hand along it.

Along the thin, jagged scar across the side of neck.

_You're lucky to be alive._

"You're lucky to be alive."

Spinning on her heel, her right hand instinctively shot to her hip, feeling for a pistol that was not there, while her other arm pushed the box behind her, angling herself as if to protect her treasures even though she was sure no one would care sans her.

"Easy, girl." The voice carried a rough scratch to it, yet somehow fell on her ears like soothing water. She eased her tense stance a bit, returning to clutching tightly to the box as he continued to speak, his tone a bit condescending. "First, I see you running off with a drone nipping your heels, thinking you'd be dead in a minute." A bark of a laugh escaped him. "Then, imagine my surprise to find you not only alive, but to then run into _that_ mess!"

His arm swung towards the wreckage, and her gaze slowly shifted to stare at the destruction yet again, before looking at him once more. Now that the danger had passed, she began to truly look at him. Taking in the endless twists and turns of metal, the white painted pieces of the ferrari's outer shell that now covered this new form like armor with the emerald and blood red decals that streaked down the hood now on his chest. His face displayed an irritated scowl, but his eyes… what she surmised were eyes, that is, somehow seemed… relieved.

And it hit her. She had almost died. Twice. But, its not like she hadn't faced that in the past? The only difference was the fact that this, these possible deaths… she had given all that up. She gave up putting her life on the line. But looking into those worried eyes… she saw _him_ again. Someone dead and buried and lost to her. She saw him in this, creature, this metal alien standing some thirty to forty feet above her.

And she knew that her life was once again lost.

Steeling away her emotions, she shifted the box to her side, a determined gait heading her towards an old, bomb silo off to the side of the vast, abandoned property. "Where are you going?" his voice called after her, confusion and irritation still evident.

Steps ceasing, her head swiveled over her shoulder, dark brown eyes that appeared black in the clouded moonlight, she called out to him. "Hide those two… things. I need to grab some supplies from the barn." Gaze darting to the ground, she whispered, "And then we leave."

Head pivoting back and fast pace returning before he could speak in response, she added, "You have ten minutes, Tin Man."

"….HEY."

Ignoring him, she continued on her path, soon hearing grumbling complaints from the giant followed by his rumbling footsteps as he set about the task she gave him. Though she knew that the drones would soon be found, hiding them might by her and the transformer more time.

Time they desperately needed if she wanted any chance for this to work.

Reaching the cellar, she carefully sat the old, oak box off to the side in grass, giving it one loving stroke before turning back to the task at hand. The year since she had opened the cellar and had checked the stock had left the old cedar plank on the outside to swell, leaving her to have bend down and use her shoulder to slowly press up until it popped out of the slots holding it in place and keeping her from entering. Eventually, the heavy board came out, she let it tumble to the side, discarding it. With practiced movements, she reached above the front door, grasping a bit of the planking and pulling a hidden lever, one which seemed to do nothing at all.

"What's with the lever?"

"Jesus Christ!" Spinning on heel, she glared up at the metal giant. "Warn a girl?! And how in the hell are you so quiet?" He simply ignored her question and gestured to the cellar. Rolling her eyes, she merely snapped, "It shuts off the traps. That way, we can get in unharmed."

Eyes widening, he announced, "Traps? You have _traps_ in that thing?" Peering around her as she swung open the wide doors, he continued by barking out, "What in the frag for?!"

Huffing and bending over to dust her hands off on her sweat pants, she casually responded, "I have friends who like to deal in… not so legal activities." Stretching inside to flip on a light switch, she then proceeded to casually venture inside. Calling out behind her, she continued by adding, "They think its necessary to keep me… well stocked."

Still trying to see inside, the giant's head filled the entire doorway, his glowing sapphire optics casting a haze over his face. She took in the curiosity they showed in her stock, and how his face seemed battle worn, two distinct scars decorating the edge of his mouth. "What kind of stock?" he questioned her as she turned to another light switch.

Smirking, she announced in a mischievous tone, "_This_ kind of stock."

Soon, rows upon rows of various contraband could be seen. Boxes clearly labeled as C4 filled the bottom rows of shelves, and the back wall held racks with guns of all sorts and sizes. Grabbing a large, already packed duffel bag off to the side, she walked up to a shelf and proceeded to grab handfuls of protein bars and such and shove them into the bag.

Letting out a whistle, the giant remarked, "Not sure if I should be nervous or impressed."

She let out a snort. "Neither." Rummaging in the duffel, she added, "This is mostly their stuff. I'm not supposed to screw with it except in emergencies." Her hand emerged with a huge wad of bills, which she examined before dropping back in the bag. "I think they would consider this an emergency."

"Don't mind me asking," he continued still staring in with shock. "But who exactly are 'they'?"

Walking to the back wall, she grabbed a pistol, dropping the ammo cartridge in a practiced manner to check the contents before popping it back in place with a satisfied sound and shoving it in the back of her sweats. "You can meet some of them when we get there."

"Wait, what?"

Grabbing a bunch of ammo cartridges and tossing them in the bag, keeping one on hand, she continued, "We need to leave. They can help us." Looking up the stairs, she added, "Its not safe here."

His eyes rolled as he pulled back from the framework, her ascending from below. "Yeah, I got that from the drones." Glaring at her as she exited the silo, setting about closing the and resealing it with the trap lever in place, he barked, "But I don't have time to go off and meet these 'friends' of yours. I need to meet up with my general—"

"Yeah," she laughed, stepping to the side to carefully lift the box and place it in the duffel. "That's easier said than done."

"What do you mean?"

Looking at him grimly, she decided to be blunt. "Your race is being hunted by humans. Its not safe here." Looking at the ruin of her house, she added, "Reinforcements are probably on the way—"

"Humans. Are. _What?_"

Glaring at the livid mech before her, she snapped, "Hunting you. Some idiots in the government decided that you were a threat, and now you are top on the world's most wanted list." Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm herself before speaking. "Look, you have no reason to trust me. I wouldn't if I were you. But I'm your only chance."

Letting out a disbelieving laugh, he snapped, "I can do just _fine_ on my own, babe." With that, he turned to stalk away.

"How?" she called after him. "You don't know this planet! Your ship is wrecked over in that field!" she screeched, flinging her arm over in the general vicinity of a distant flame, which, as if to add emphasis, suddenly exploded as they stared.

Grumbling, he remarked, "There goes the Jackhammer…"

"You. Need. Me." She told him as she strode forward. "And you may not trust me yet, but I can earn it. It's not like I have anything else in my life right now. And!" she added, jabbing a finger at him. "You burnt down my house! You owe_ me_, yet I'm trying to further help _you_!"

Groaning, he announced, "FINE. Fine, just behave or whatever." He then proceeded to shift down, his frame twisting and flexing, the armor bits returning to the shape of the Ferrari which had originally sped into her driveway that short hour ago.

Grinning triumphantly, she hefted the duffle bag further up her shoulder before striding over to him as he opened the passenger door. She, however, moved to stand by the driver door.

"Oh, Pit no. You are _not_—"

"Humans do not have cars that drive themselves," she responded firmly. "I need to at _least_ sit in the driver's seat." Grumbling came again, but the passenger door slammed shut as the driver door popped open, to which she tossed the giant duffel in and gracefully slid into the seat, shifting about to settle herself.

Soon, the door slammed shut, and he took off without warning. An awkward silence settled in, neither speaking. Eventually, a gruff voice from the radio spoke up. "So… my designation is Wheeljack."

Letting out a soft smile, she responded, "Kara. My name is Kara."

Silence settled for a moment before Wheeljack announced, "What in the frag kind of designation is _Kara_?"

"Do _not_ get me started on all the things wrong with a name like _Wheeljack_."

* * *

**So, what did you think? Any and all reviews are appreciated! Let me know what you think~!**


	2. Glissade

**I linked the opening song to my profile page! Since I'm rotating the story around it, I would suggest listening to it! Its definitely my favorite song. ^w^**

* * *

_Thunderous applause still rung in her ears. Adrenaline pumping through her veins as she hurried off stage from her final bow. The view of the standing ovation during her time on stage filled her with a sense of accomplishment. Of pride._

_ But then, the adrenaline began to fade, the applause ceased, and she slowly trudged her worn and tired body backstage in search of her dressing room. Excited voices filled the air, and though the conversations of the other dancers varied, one strain of words kept catching her ears._

_ "…coming faster than you could imagine!"_

_ "…starting our futures, I mean…."_

_ "Soon we'll be in college!"_

_ Her shoulders slumped as the seventeen-year-old softly shut her dressing room door behind her. College. That dreaded word. She had no hope of ever paying that through. Several dance academies had approached the rising star, offering her large sums in scholarships to dance for them, but what hope did she have of ever paying for the rest of the costs? All of her inheritance was about spent up between her passing a job for extra dance classes and her recently departed sister's expensive drug addiction._

_ She had no chance._

_ Carefully lowering herself into the chair to not damage the stiff skirt of her tu-tu, she began to slowly and tiredly unlace her pointe shoes, letting the old things fall to the ground with a dull thump. The usual ache came to her feet, and she set into her normal ritual of stretching and kneading her feet to keep the ache from setting in._

_ That's when a knock came to the door, and without looking up, she barked out an irritated "Come in."_

_ "Is this a bad time?" came a honey laced yet masculine voice from in front of her as the door slowly creaked open._

_ Sighing, she let her foot fall to the floor as she glanced up in response. "No, but… Oh." _

_That's when she fully appraised the smirking man before her. Her head tilted slightly as she scrutinized him, the little wisps of her ebony hair that had somehow escaped her tight bun grazing her cheek. No older than his late twenties, he stood a good six feet or so tall, a full and muscular form highly evident under his expensive looking tux as he currently set about taking off his bow tie and letting the length of fabric hang loose about his neck._

_Examining his face, she found herself staring at a perfectly chiseled jaw, slight scruff, and short, military cropped auburn hair on top. Set into his face, though, were a pair of unusually bright sapphire eyes, and she soon found herself lost in them as well as his alluring demeanor. _

_Grinning, the man offered his hand to her. "Quite a performance tonight."_

"_Oh!" she exclaimed, embarrassment evident in her voice and demeanor as her ivory skin of her cheeks and neck blushed warm crimson shades. "Umm… Thanks! I mean, thank you… I, well, I messed up a few parts here and there—"_

_A hearty laugh escaped him as he met her gaze. "Only a true master would be willing to admit mistakes where there are none." Leaning back casually in the doorframe when he realized she was too flustered to accept his hand, he crossed his arms over his chest while still grinning at the young girl he had captured within his charms. "So, I bet you have all the dance schools fighting tooth in nail."_

_Her flustered appearance gave way to a slightly slumped form of earlier, before his appearance. "Well, a few offers… but you know, money is always the issue…" Giving him a sad smile, she added, "Maybe in a few years."_

_Frowning for the first time since his entrance, he stated firmly, "That simply won't do." Pushing off the wall, his long arm reached over and grasped a random chair, raking it across the floor with him as the other arm shut the door. "You shouldn't have to put off your dreams because of money."_

_Straightening in her chair, hands stiffly placed in her lap over her skirt, she frowned as he casually stopped the chair right before her before plopping down in it, sitting backwards with his legs straddling the seat as his arms crossed over the back. Her voice tight and slightly angered by the subject, she spat out, "Its not exactly like I have a choice." Gaze darting to the side, she added, "I have nothing but an old farmhouse. It would never sell for enough."_

_Quirking a brow, he asked in a tone suggesting he already knew the answer, "No family?"_

_Glaring daggers at him, she let the silence fall. Neither spoke, neither moved. They simply sat, her stiff and livid in her chair, he relaxed and curious in his. Finally, he asked, "What if you had a sponsor?"_

_Her heart stopped, the stiffness in her frame switching from one of anger to one of shock. He couldn't be suggesting… she refused to hope, but there he sat, in his expensive suit, a gold wristwatch on one of his crossed arms, and a mischievous glint in his eyes as his head rested on those crossed arms._

_Sitting straighter in the chair, he continued. "Over the years, I've collected quite a bit of money through my various…. Endeavors. Sponsoring a ballerina through dance school, both schooling and boarding, would be pocket change to me." Then his face turned a bit serious, though still warm. "I would just need a favor."_

_She couldn't think, couldn't breathe. She should have thought it through, thought of the consequences of trusting a complete stranger, but all she could say in response was, "Anything. Anything at all."_

_Smirking and extending his arm yet again, he announced, "The name's Archer."_

_Quickly snatching up his hand, she shook it fervently while responding, "Kara."_

* * *

The Southern Nevada road held its usual silence, no signs of civilization as the asphalt stretched for miles towards the rising, rose colored sunset.

At least, the silence lasted for a while, until a low rumbling sound began to slowly grow until the roar of an engine finally zooms past. The white Ferrari, one with emerald and ruby stripes detailed along the hood and sides, raced along at break neck speed, a speed at which its passenger was not pleased about.

"For the hundredth time… Slow. Your Ass. _Down!_"

An undignified harrumph came from the dashboard radio as a disembodied voice spoke back. "Primus, don't you know how to have fun?" he asked in an irritated way as the road slowly began to wind through more rocky terrain. "I just got these wheels! Let me give them a proper test run!"

Clutching tightly to the steering wheel, the girl sitting in the Ferrari's driver's seat sneered through partially clenched teeth, "_Not_ if you get us _killed!_" Another sharp turn had her nearly thrown out of her seat towards the passenger side, and her previous thoughts of being 'safe' inside the vehicle transformer went out the proverbial window.

As she then shakily and quickly fumbled for the seatbelt, Wheeljack couldn't help but laugh. "If you are an example of average humans…" Another sharp turn and another screech from the tires _and_ the girl. "I have _high_ doubts that you are actually hunting us down."

Finally managing to click her seat belt in place, she huffed and flipped the falling strands of hair back from her eyes. "Well, we are." Her hands reached up to gather all the strands while pulling the loosened tie out. "And apparently…" The mess of hair soon laid flat against her head as she began to twist the end of her ebony locks. "We're winning."

An angry growl seemed to emanate from the car, and then Kara became truly aware of where she was. Of what she was doing. And of how easily the situation could turn sour. In her head, she could here _him_ berating her for being so foolish, for risking her safety, for putting her life into the…hands… of not only someone she just met, but of some_thing_.

As her hands finally ceased in twisting her hair into the familiar, tight bun at the very back of her skull, she lightly reached forwards, hesitantly edging forward to lay a hand on the dash. In a sincere voice, she whispered, "I'm sorry."

The growling stopped, and silence reigned between the two. At first, she worried she might have said the wrong thing, but as the Ferrari began to slow his speed, he spoke to her in his course voice. "Thank you."

She nodded, and then retracted her hand to lower it to her lap again. The silence returned, but this silence that fell gave a more comfortable tone than the last. That is, until a smirk grew on her face.

"You still have to slow down."

"Oh, COME ON. I slowed down nearly thirty miles per hour!"

"Yet you are still going nearly thirty miles per hour _over_ the speed limit."

An irritated snort, habit of his that she was beginning to notice, followed by another complaint. "That's ridiculous. You humans build these machines and don't know how to handle them?"

Crossing her arms over her chest, she retorted, "Well, not all of us actually _are_ cars, so forgive us for not all being good drivers." Her eyes darted to the speed gauge. "But seriously, your going to get us pulled over. I don't have my license, and I certainly don't have registration on you."

"Registration?"

"_Please," _she pleaded. "I don't have my contacts' new numbers. If we are arrested…" Turning her gaze to her lap as she slumped in her seat, she finished with a resigned, "We're screwed."

Wheeljack sighed, giving into the girl's demands on lowering his speeds to a more acceptable human level. Settling on a silent nod of acknowledgement, she relaxed into the seat, letting her hands lightly rest on the bottom of steering wheel, eyes watching her fingers as they drummed up and down, her lost in thought. Eventually, she spoke up.

"I'm insane."

"Nah," Wheeljack drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm _sure_ there are _plenty_ of humans who would want to willingly travel with an alien they just met."

Eyes narrowed towards the radio, she snapped back, "That's not what is freaking me out." Tilting her gaze out the window, a lost look coming to her eyes. "I'm more worried about my… contacts."

A low hum came from the radio, as if he were dissecting how to approach the situation. After a pause, he responded, "This… isn't going to turn sour, is it?"

Her knees drew up to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around them as her feet flexed on the edge of the driver's seat. "No… I highly doubt it." With a quick dart of her hand, she brushed a few strands of hair behind ear. "They… care for me. But, the means of how I bonded with this group…"

Noticing her hesitance, Wheeljack decided to end the conversation. "Story for another day?"

With a light smile, she nods her head lightly. "Another day."

* * *

_ Waking was a nightmare._

_ Groaning, her hand grasped at the sheets enveloping her, a throbbing pain in her head as a dull tingle shot through her limbs. Rolling slowly from her back, the unfamiliar feel of the sheets wrapped about her as she flopped onto her stomach, eliciting another pained groan._

_ But then her mind shot back to the unfamiliar feel of the sheets._

_ The unfamiliar feel of the bed._

_ And despite the pain, shot straight up, her sleep-deprived brain struggling to process what was happening. But she couldn't remember what had happened. How she had gotten here. A lightheaded dizziness consumed her, and she felt as if she were going to hurl._

_ Her gaze darted about the windowless room, taking in the sparse, generic décor. Pale blue walls were accented with white shelves and matching adornments in random places. Looking down, her hand ran along the soft fabric tangled between her legs, a curious tilt to her head as she examined the swirling blue designs along the comforter twisted amongst the matching shade of blue sheets._

_ But, unfortunately, the tilt of her neck was the wrong move._

_ Pain shot up her throat, and a startled cry escaped her lips. A hand shot up to grasp at the pint were the pain emanated from, but rather than skin, she found a thick piece of heavy gauze, one that her dizzy mind had not registered but was now painfully aware of._

_ That's when memories of that night came back, and with fear shooting through her, she grasped the edge of the bed, yanking her legs as best she could from the snare her tangled sheets had created. Feet free, she quickly swung them over the edge of the bed, dropping them down on the hard, light colored wood floor._

_ Standing was another beast, her head and limbs screaming in protest. But she had to move. She had to get out of… whatever this place was. No good could come from this._

_ Shakily, she made her way to the door, working her way along the wall across the thankfully small room, being careful not to make too much noise when heading to the exit. Upon reaching it, she moved her hand towards the handle, only to stop when she heard muffled voices emanating through the door. Leaning closer, she stained to hear them._

_ First, a feminine one, with dark and angry twist to her tone. "…insane! You can't…kidnap her!"_

_ "What choice….have?! She would….dead…" Came a familiar male voice, but her dizzy brain would not let her remember who he was._

_ "…only nineteen!"_

_ "And we will….of her."_

_ Having enough of listening to the pair's snippets of bickering, she moved to twist the handle, only to find she could do no more than jiggle it a bit. That's when the voices suddenly stopped. Taking a deep breath, she decided to call out and speak with them. "Hel…Hello?" Her voice came out weak and scratchy, so she struggled to project more loudly. "Hello? Can…can you let me out? Please?"_

_ No response._

_ "Please? Let me out!"_

_ Silence._

_ "Let me out! Let. Me. OUT. You can't keep me here!"_

_ A pause, and then the male spoke up, his tone sad but firm. "I'm sorry, Kara. But we can." Then, her heart sunk as he finished by saying, "And we will."_

_ Then, all that could be heard was Kara's screaming and crying and fists beating upon the strong oak door as she cursed Archer and the day she made that deal with him those few years ago. She screamed till her throat was raw, her tears were spent up, and she sat collapsed against the door, her tear stained face staring at nothing as her lips still silently moved in unanswered pleas to the man who would never let her go._

* * *

**I should post again next Friday! Let me know what you think so far!**


	3. Adagio

**_Author's Note:_**

**I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG.**

**Summer session was hell, and I was faced with the choice of either posting crappy chapters, or planning and waiting, so I chose the planning and waiting so i could give your he best quality I could! But i promise that this story will be my most regularly updated one because it is my best thus far and I am proud of the plans I have for it. **

**Also, if you are reading my _Of Hope and Destruction_ series, I am updating it, but this one takes priority! Sorry!**

**Anyway, ON WITH THE STORY.**

* * *

_He had no idea why he was doing this._

_Archer had told him not to bother her. No one was permitted to go into her room but him, not until she behaved more. But, his soft heart made him melt at the idea of a scared, innocent girl being trapped alone in that room for days. Archer barely brought her any food, trying to break her foul behavior with promises of decadents if she listened and obeyed._

_So far, he had been hit with five books, two shoes (which left her barefoot), and a lamp._

_Stealing his nerve against the idea of Archer's wrath he would face for this, his free hand reached forward to knock on the old wood door while his other balanced a bowl of steaming stew, an old recipe from when his grandmother would cook for him as a child. No answer came forth, so he carefully cracked the door open._

_Just as his head poked through, he quickly pulled back and shut the door, hearing the thud of the hard, leather book slamming against the wood where his head had just been. "I come in peace!" he announced, his heavily accented voice showing tones of worry and concern. No words came forth in answer, but the sounds of someone shifting off a bed and scurrying further into the room gave him the nerve to step back inside._

_Pressed back into the corner, the young girl, partially a woman, stood with her back flat against the far wall, and her shoulder digging into the crease of the corner. He made a quick assessment of her, this being the first real time he had seen her rather than heard Genevieve and Archer speaking of her. Dark, espresso colored eyes remained locked on him, her ebony hair twisted up in a tight bun, a few strands falling over her face. Her frame was small and slight, not abnormally short but immensely tinier than his abnormally large and muscular frame._

_Giving as kind of a smile as possible, he spoke to her in hushed and calming tones. "It is alright. I am not here to hurt you, Malyutka." Extending the bowl out in front of him, he asked, "Are you hungry?"_

_Her eyes finally darted from him to land on the bowl, and a conflicted look passed over her face. But the growling of her stomach took hold, and soon, she was practically on top of him, snatching the bowl before moving to curl up on the bed. Delicately tucking her feet under her, she grasped the spoon in the bowl and hurriedly began to shovel food into her mouth._

_He could not stop the light chuckle as he strode into the room, dropping down into the desk chair. "Archer should be more accommodating to his lady friends—"_

"_I am _not _his lady friend!" Her voice screeched, her eyes practically blazing as she stared him down._

_He turned solemn, assessing the pale looking girl before him. "No," he finally stated, staring at the gauze on her neck and sickly skin from malnutrition and blood loss. The past week had not been kind to the girl. "No, I suppose you are not."_

_She seemed shocked at his sudden acceptance of her outburst, and she dropped her eyes to the bowl she clutched in her hands, over half of the contents gone. After a few moments, she quietly asked, "When is he going to let me go?"_

_Apparently, his silence was enough of an answer._

_Tears began to well up in her eyes, and he began to panic over how to deal with the situation. He never had been very good with helping others through their emotions. But, luckily, or, not so luckily, a voice interrupted his brewing internal panic. _

"What. _Are you doing in here?"_

_We both turned to see a familiar woman standing in the doorframe. "Genevieve!" He shot up from his seat and tried to find a good excuse. "I was just… I mean, I—"_

_But she interrupted him, her British accent flowing with casual amusement, "Are you sure it was a good idea, Joseph, to feed her such a heavy meal? She has not ate much as of late." Her neck strained to look at the bowl. "And so much of it too."_

_My brows knitted together. "What do you—"_

_Suddenly, gagging came from the girl as she shot up from the bed, dropping the bowl and its food remnants on the floor as she bolted to the bathroom, slamming the door shut only to begin making retching sounds on the other side. With a role of her eyes, she spoke with an annoyed tone. "I shall _not _be the one explaining this to Archer." And with a glance to th mess on the floor, she added, "Nor will I be the one to clean that up."_

* * *

Fingers tightened on the steering wheel as the Ferrari slowly edged down the familiar drive. If she could breathe, she assumed her breaths would be shallow and quick, verging on panic, but her lungs seemed to refuse to cooperate and allow her a breath of the stuffy car air. As for her gaze, it remained fixed on the looming structure before the pair, never leaving the sight even as Wheeljack stopped his movements and spoke to her, his voice worried yet guarded.

"Are you sure you're up for this?" his low drawl came from the speakers. "If you're this uncomfortable, we can leave. We don't need their help."

A sigh came from the girl as she tucked a fallen strand behind her ear. Eyes still locked on the old, abandoned looking factory building, she spoke with a resigned voice as a door opened on the side of the building. "Sadly, I don't think we have a choice."

Out of the door came a large, intimidating figure, spanning a height of near seven feet, and enough muscle to send a person into a nervous fit upon confronting him. A serious scowl sat on his squared face, and his dark, dull black hair had been cropped into a neat military cut, hints of gray beginning to emerge above his ears as he strode through the dusty dirt towards the unfamiliar vehicle, which had dared to approach this location.

Wheeljack seemed to bristle, his engine revving ever so slightly at the sight of the intimidating male making a beeline to the pair. As she slid off her seat belt, Kara leaned forward slightly to rest a hand on Wheeljack's dash. "It's okay. Just follow my lead, alright?"

Before he could protest, she had opened the door and swung her legs out. Taking a deep breath, she rose up, standing with her profile to the menacing looking man, who immediately halted mid step upon seeing her. As she turned to face him, he hesitantly called out to her. "Malyutka?..." A small smile graced her face, and the lumbering giant of a man broke out into a full grin. "Malyutka!"

She hastily made her way around the car door, not bothering to shut it as the man took long, thudding strides towards her. Soon, her feet hung off the ground as the man swung her around and then held her close in a tight hug.

Laughter mixed with his heavily accented words as he spoke to her. "It is so good to be seeing you, Malyutka." Holding her out at arms length, her feet dangling a good foot or so above the ground, he asked, "What is been taking so long to see team?" Then, with a puzzled look as he examined her, he added, "And why does my Malyutka look like she been climbing in chimney?" His gaze settled on her feet. "And without shoes?"

A nervous laugh slipped from Kara as she awkwardly hung, still suspended by the man, and she tried to keep her gaze from locking onto his. "Umm… well that's part of the reason I'm here… Who all is at base?..."

His expression grew stern as he placed her on the ground, one hand darting out to firmly, but gently grasp her chin and tilt it upwards, forcing the petite girl to look him in the eyes. "What has happened?"

Voice tentative, she tells him, "I'd… rather tell the group as a whole…"

He looked ready to protest, but he simply clenched his jaw and nodded, releasing his grip on her chin. "I will be opening the garage door for your car… and I will be having people gather there." With that, he turned and jogged off back to the old building, his feet stomping harder than before, causing more plumes of dirt to fly.

With a tired sigh, Kara turned and quickly slid back into Wheeljack's vehicle mode, playing out the motions of putting him into gear and driving towards the building. As Wheeljack watched the man open the bay door on the far corner of the building, he had a million and one questions run through his mind, but he settled on one he thought she would most likely answer.

"Malyutka?"

A small smile graced her lips. "It means 'little one,'" she replied wistfully. "Joseph is Russian. He speaks a different native language than me, hence the accent."

"Wait," Wheeljack announced. "You humans have more than one language?!"

"Hundreds, actually."

As he pulled up to the bay door Joseph had opened for them, Wheeljack mumbled, "Well, that's a fragging waste of time…."

With a roll of her eyes, she snarked, "Well, I am _so _sorry that we did not better coordinate our languages for your arrival." He simply snorted in response, and continued to drive closer. Suddenly, Kara's hands tightened on the steering wheel as she spoke. "Wheeljack, I'm scared."

"Then let's _leave._" His words sounded so sure. "We don't have to do this." So protective. "I can take care of you."

A soft smile graced her lips as she released one hand to grasp the seat belt. "No, this has to be done." They had finally reached the now open garage door, and they pulled inside while Joseph talked on the phone in the doorway. As Wheeljack stopped, Joseph hung up and strode over to her. "Behave yourself."

The grumble of irritation from the transformer did not reassure Kara.

No sooner had she stepped out of the car had Joseph wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to his side, the size difference between the two highly evident. He tucked her against him in almost a protective manner and spoke in low tones. "Most members be out on missions. Mostly fixtures remain, so good for you not to be overwhelmed."

Kara felt relieved, but something in his tone made it known to her that she would not be completely in the clear. But, before she could dwell on it, she heard one of the doors across the large garage slam open.

"MIIIIIIIDGET!"

Soon, a man with long, wild orange-red hair that looked like fire flowing behind him came streaking across the large, empty room. He had a wrench in his hand, and what looked to be grease streaked across face and well-toned chest. He looked scrawny compared to the beast that was Joseph, but the lean muscle served him well as he quickly spanned the length of the garage that could easily hold a jet.

"John—" Joseph began, but he was interrupted by the wild man ducking under his arm and scooping Kara up into his arms bridal style.

"Oi! Where ya been, midget?" His voice showed heavy tones of an Australian accent. "We missed you!"

Laughter escaped Kara as she hugged the crazy Aussie's neck. "Its good to see you two, John."

"Well, what about dis ol' Cajun?"

Kara's head snapped to the side only to see a man standing there, leaning against a bo staff where he had somehow managed to approach unnoticed as usual. A familiar, ratty trench coat adorned his frame, and his trademark smirk spread across his face. "Etienne!" she squealed before wiggling out of John's grip to run over to the man and grab him in a bear hug.

The man used one arm to move the bo staff behind him as he hugged her close with the other. "Well, aren't you a pleasant surprise, eh?" As they pulled back from the hug, he grinned as he spoke. "This one fell off o' de' plane wing while talkin' on the phone—" his finger jutted off to the side toward John "—and then he took off like a rabid dingo."

"HEY. I resent that comparison!"

Ignoring the pouting Aussie, he continued, "So, am I correct in assumin' dat your visit was not a coincidence?" Kara's face grew nervous, and that caused Etienne to grow serious. Looking to Joseph, he asked in a stern tone, "What happened?"

Crossing his arms over his chest, Joseph merely responded, "She has yet to be telling me." Looking at the small woman, he continued. "She wanted to tell the group as a whole."

An irritated snort came from the side, and a grungy looking man with ratty hair stood, arms crossed and nearly growling. "What is _she_ doing here?"

Almost in sync, all of the men moved to stand between the girl and the newcomer, each looking fiercely protective and tense, causing Wheeljack to worry. He somehow knew that this man was one of the reasons Kara was nervous to return. But before any confrontation could occur, Kara snapped.

"Seriously?!" Slowly but surely, she managed to squeeze herself between the man-wall which blocked her from the newcomer. "Roan isn't going to hurt me!" She gave a final pull, and her leg popped through from between John and Etienne. Walking towards 'Roan', she announced, "He fears the code too—"

Before she could finish, Roan shot farward, his hand wrapping around her delicate throat. "Don't bet on it, sweetheart," he growled as the other men took their stances, about to pounce forward. As she gasped for breath, he leaned forward to her ear and lowly growled as he drug a long, sharp nail along the scar on her neck, "Maybe I want to make your mark a match set—"

"Let her_ go!"_

All Kara could think was, '_Shit.'_

Twisting and clanking came from the Ferrari, as the metal gave way to Wheeljack's true form, his frame shifting to a standing position to stand over the humans. Roan released his grip to grab at a gun holstered to his hip, and all the other men followed suit, pulling out useless handguns from where they had been hidden on their bodies. Kara panicked and raced to stand in front of her transformer. "No, stop! He's a _friend_!"

Etienne tried to keep his composure and infamous poker face, but his light, caramel colored eyes flickered between rage and panic. "Kara, what in de hell? Why did you bring that… _thing_ here?!"

"That _thing_ has a name!" Suddenly, she squeaked as Wheeljack's large hand scooped her up and cradled her near his chest plate.

"Put her down!" Joseph commanded, cocking his gun as he took aim.

"Yeah," Wheeljack sarcastically responded. "I'll do that when Unicron does a tap dance."

"Jackie!" Kara snapped. "Put me _down_."

"Sorry babe," he responded, not taking his eyes off of the men below. "Not gonna happen. You can talk from up here."

"Jackie—"

"_No_ Kara. I'm _not _budging on this—"

"What in the _hell _is going on?!"

All eyes turned to the angry woman standing in the far doorway, her blonde hair pulled back in a tight twist and a livid sneer on her face. Kara felt her heart drop.

"Genevieve."

* * *

**Okay, so you have met some of my other characters! Sorry this is so slow, but it will pick up in about two chapters, promise! **

**Now, a CHALLENGE. If you can tell me what characters I based the four men off of, I will name a character either after you or a name of your choice! And this is an important, reoccurring character, not a little one chapter part! I even named two of them based off of the characters' names. If no one guesses by the next chapter, I will leave a hint then. **

**So, GET GUESSING. YOU HAVE TILL AFTER THE NEXT CHAPTER TO GUESS.**

**GOOD LUCK!**


	4. Couru

**_Author's Notes:_**

**Here is the next chapter~! Hope you like it!**

* * *

_"How are you?"_

_ Startled, Kara leapt up from her seat on her porch steps. Spinning round to grasp the white filigree of steps' railing, her eyes darted to the figure leaning casually against the post at the top of the stairs. Ice blue eyes assessed her, their normal coldness gone, showing hints of concern and compassion as the figure awaited its answer._

_ "I'm… better," was Kara's hesitant answer. But, as her gaze shot to the worn and weathered steps beneath her, they both knew that she was far from better. _

_ But neither spoke against her words._

_ Silence fell between them as the figure's eyes shifted over to watch the distant setting sun in the far field. Kara had always been entranced by the view, but now, her gaze kept shifting to the woman behind her, futilely trying to hide the stolen glances even though she knew the woman was well aware of her curious gaze._

_ As the wind picked up, the woman's ice blond hair began to flow about her face, bringing awareness to Kara of how this was one of the few instances she had seen her with barely a hint of makeup. Not that the bombshell needed it, with her hourglass figure and, as Kara had always deemed it, her Goddess like face that seemed utterly flawless. Jealousy was a common thing Kara had felt when she first had seen the seemingly perfect woman, but now, the jealousy seemed so… worthless._

_ "Why are you here, Genevieve?"_

_ The French woman turned to look back at her, and Kara was taken aback by how… lost she looked. The emptiness in her gaze held a foreign concept to Kara, who knew well of the woman's rage and passion, her occasional motherly tones mixed somewhere in between._

_ Letting her accent slip into her normally guarded words, Genevieve cautiously asked, "Your birthday… it was two days ago, no?"_

_ Sighing, she responded while subconsciously twisting her ebony hair between her fingertips. "Yeah… 24 now." Shoulders slumping as she broke the already too long of a held gaze, she added sarcastically, "How _exciting._"_

_ More awkward silence. Then, a hand pressed against Kara's shoulder, and she looked to find Genevieve standing tall, at her side on the steps rather than the vantage point of the porch. Genevieve had always preached about maintaining the advantage in _every_ situation, no matter how insignificant the situation may be. Even though she still towered a good few feet above the petite, seated dancer, showing this small act of giving the advantage to another…_

_ With words filled with more emotion than Kara could have remembered, the woman whispered, "I am sorry… I am _so, so_ sorry." Tears welled up, adding a shimmer to the icy blues as she continued. "You never deserved this. You never deserved to have him mess with your head so much… We should have stopped him… _I _should have stopped him…"_

_ "Genevieve…" _

_ Suddenly, the emotion drained, and she went back to her controlled, emotionless state, the only signs of letting go and showing weakness being the misty film over her eyes as she carefully wiped away the excess tears. "But he was good at that, was he not?" A hollow laugh escaped her lips. "Making others feel _dependent_ upon him."_

_ Shrugging, Kara just looked down to her lap, as passive as always. Archer had taught her that well. And how she hated it. She hated everything he had done to her: for training her, for hardening her, for breaking her…_

_ And for eventually shattering her._

_ And in this moment, she realized something about Genevieve as she looked again to the Goddess standing by her side._

_ "He shattered you too, didn't he?"_

_ She did not look away from the sunset as she maintained a stony expression. "When he died, the bastard shattered us all." Her eyes slowly closed as she took a breath, years of pain and strife making its way into the slight heave of her shoulders. "And I'm sorry to say that I do not believe that you nor I will ever be able to fixed."_

_ They did not speak another word as the distant sun finally set over the field, enveloping the pair in darkness and never ending silence._

* * *

The woman identified as Genevieve came striding forward, everyone quieting as the sounds of her clicking heels across the hard, cement floor filled the oversized garage, her hips perfectly shifting from side to side in her tight, dark jeans and flowing white top. The men straightened their spines, their attention near completely turning to Genevieve just as what was expected from the good little soldiers, behaviors that had been trained into them a long time ago.

But as Wheeljack observed this "Genevieve," he noted something about her. The way she held herself, the way she moved, was not what he would expect. These men looked to her as their leader, and based on her powerful strut, he had no doubts that she had near always held a rank of power.

However, she was _not_ accustomed to being the one in charge, the head of this rag tag group. She easily reminded him of Magnus, the straight-laced, unemotional second in command of the Autobots. But she was not a leader, a general. And she certainly was not comfortable with the title.

She could school her emotions, but not the shifting of her eyes towards the men, and the uncertainty in response to their show of subservience to her.

As she drew closer, Kara had a different reaction than the men. Her frame slowly shrunk ever so slightly, as if she were worried about the woman. He soon found his little human to be sitting as far away as she could from the approaching woman, her shoulder tucked into the bend of his thumb, while her neck craned out to peer between his figures at the scene below. A quick examination of her gave way to signs of adrenaline, an elevated heart rate causing a rapid beating sound within her chest.

Wheeljack slowly drew her closer, ready to toss her into his chassis should a fight ensue. He did not care what claim this group believed they had over her. She was _his_ partner now.

And his spark did a quick flip as he dismissed the thought of her as a partner. She was an asset. One that he begrudgingly trusted. And one that he would dispose of should she turn out to betray him.

Nothing more.

Nothing less.

He had to hand it to the "Genevieve," though. She handled his presence much more calmly than the other organics. Her fear remained masked, and her adrenaline well maintained. Even her weapon, which Wheeljack could barely see attached to her hip under a jacket covering, remained holstered, with her only ever so slightly favoring the arm near it.

Hopefully it stayed in its holster. He would hate to have to dispose of all these humans. He had a feeling Kara would not respond well.

Gazing up with ice blue eyes, ones that reminded Wheeljack of the standard Autobot colors, she made a harrumph of both annoyance and amusement. A slight curl of her lips came before speaking. "Well, I should have known," she muttered. Then, calling out, she calmly requested, "Kara, darling, could you please have your… friend, sit you down?"

His optics narrowed, and Kara slowly edged forward in my hand, peering over with a sheepish smile. "Umm, I don't he is going to…" She looked up to meet my optics. "He seems a bit…. protective."

Genevieve remained unfazed. Finally seeming to acknowledge me, she asked, "Could you please set her down? We would not hurt one of our own." My gaze of anger shot over to the one named Roan, who began to growl and grumble, refusing to look at anyone as all gazes turned to him. "Really, Roan?" Genevieve sounded both irritated and bored. "Again? How many times must it be drilled into your head: you are _not_ to touch her. She ranks above you."

Outrage poured into his eyes as he moved to retort, but then Joseph none too lightly elbowed the angry man, causing him to stumble. A glare to Joseph, but he managed to growl out a low, "Yes, ma'am." Genevieve gave an approving nod before looking to Wheeljack, a raised brow questioning him while Kara looked up to him, her eyes pleading him to trust her.

Begrudgingly, he relented.

No sooner had her feet touched the ground did Etienne dart forward, an arm snaking around her waist to drag her backwards toward the other organics while the other males all raised their firearms to Wheeljack yet again. She yelped in shock, and Wheeljack feel back into an attack stance, only to freeze when Genevieve spoke.

"Enough." Her command stilled the room, not so loud, but incredibly firm. A glare from her icy blue eyes to the men, and they begrudgingly backed down, lowering their weapons while Etienne lightened his grip on Kara, but not fully releasing her.

Finally having enough of everything, Wheeljack jabbed a servo angrily at the group. "Will _someone_ explain what in the frag is going on?!"

Pulling from Etienne's grip and sending a quick glare towards the Cajun, she responded in a rushed manner. "It's complicated… I swear, I will explain it soon, but you need to trust—"

"_Trust you?_" He snarked in response. "Now I _may_ be wrong, but trust needs a bit of give and take, babe." Glaring round at the room's occupants, he spoke angrily, settling his gaze on her last. "So far, you haven't given me_ anything_ besides taking me to a place where I had guns pointed at me, as useless as those things you call weapons are."

Kara looked ready to snap back, but as soon as Wheeljack's harsh gaze locked with her eyes, a squeak of fear was the only sound she made, her scrambling backwards, back into Etienne's hold as she looked as if she were trying to make herself as small as possible.

Upon seeing this shift in the young woman, Wheeljack immediately lost his anger, letting confusion and worry take hold. "Hey, hey easy, babe." Kneeling down quickly, all of the humans went tense as Kara continued to shake slightly in Etienne's hold, staring at the floor. "Hey, I'm going to hurt you."

Dark brown eyes darted up to meet his optics, and she seemed to relax a bit, noticing how considerably less angry he was. Her fearful cringe lessened, and she straightened some in Etienne's grip about her tiny waist and shoulders. Her head gave the slightest of tilts to the side, an innocent yet scrutinizing look about her eyes and face, as if she were trying to gage if he would grow angry with her again.

Wheeljack quickly took a mental note not to ever yell at this girl like that again. Seeing her afraid of him… it felt like he had just kicked a sparkling. And that is not a feeling he enjoyed. With a relenting sigh, he asked, "Alright, why are we here?"

Shifting on her feet, Her voice started weak, but slowly built momentum towards how it was earlier. "Well, umm, we need a new identity… the drones—"

"What drones?" Joseph exclaimed.

"—probably managed to send details on us through before you… dealt with them. So, I need a new ID. And a new look." With a groan, she muttered, "Shit, I'm probably going to have to dye my hair, aren't I?"

Stepping forward, Genevieve remarked, "That does tend to come with a new identity." Wrapping an arm around Kara's shoulders, she began to lead her away from the group. "John, come help me. The rest of you, get started on a new paint for our… visitor. We wasted enough time as is." Looking at Kara with a pointed gaze as she led her away, she finished with, "You can explain as we walk."

Staring at the pair as they walked away, eventually followed by the distracted John who raced after them as they went out the side door, Wheeljack felt even more confused than before. "What…just happened?..."

Turning to stride towards a nearby work bench, Etienne simply muttered, "You reminded her of someone…" Before Wheeljack could question what he meant, he announced, "Now… we need to pick you a new paint."

"…what?!"

* * *

**Okay, not as strong of a chapter as I would have liked, but its a filler. After the next one is when we get to the meat of the story.**

**Also, THE QUESTION THING IS STILL ON~! **

**Tell me what characters the men are based off of, and I will name an important character either after you, or a name of your choice~! HINT: They are from a cartoon show based off of a comic series.**

**GOOD LUCK. AND TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK! :D**


	5. Plié

**_Author's Notes:_**

**Okay, so normally I don't like to post on any day but Friday, and especially not this late, but I felt like I should put this up since I accidentally already started my next chapter and I don't want to put myself a week behind.**

**So, enjoy!**

* * *

_As she took her position, a slow breath escaped from her lips, her shoulders rolling back and feet shifting into place. Hands held before her in a proper first position, one more deep inhale through her nose before her work began._

_ Dipping into a deep __plié__, she leapt upwards, allowing herself to glide forward, twisting up onto her toes in her old, well-worn pointe shoes, her loose and billowy white blouse spanning out, her black shorts giving a strange amount of ease for her movements. She only allowed herself to hold this position for a moment before settling back to the ball of each foot, arms carefully flowing about her sides. Another breath, and she rose back up onto the tips of her toes, allowing herself to slowly try and walk a few stuttering steps, only to feel the pain shoot up her toes into her feet, forcing her to settle back down._

_ An irritated growl of frustration escaped her, and she collapsed upon the ground in defeat. It had been too long since she had last practiced. The strength once built up to its prime in her toes was now gone, and she would have to start from scratch._

_ It was _his_ fault._

_ A knocking came from the door, and her head jolted up to see the man in question, Archer, leaning against the frame with a smirk on his face, observing her with his piercing blue eyes where she sat defeated and frustrated upon the wood floor. Holding up a bottle of wine in one hand, two crystal wine glasses in the other, he announced, "You left before the toast."_

_ Turning her attention back to her feet, she muttered, "I wanted to try them back on…" A quick glance at him before turning her attention to untie the ribboning from her feet. "And I don't drink."_

_ "Aww… Come on, Pointe." Pushing off of the doorframe, he strode towards her. "That's not the birthday spirit…" He knelt beside her, and she ever so slightly turned her shoulders from him, finally freeing her feet from the prisons her shoes had become. "You promised me a drink a while back… you know, whenever you turned twenty-one—"_

_ "This is your fault."_

_ To his credit, he looked genuinely saddened by her words, albeit a bit confused and unknowing to the meaning behind them. "I… I don't—"_

_ "You don't _understand_." Her words were biter and harsh, not a hint of remorse following them. "How could you understand? Understand what's happened. Understand what this mean." Head whipping round to stare him dead in the eye, her own dark brown eyes blazing, she let the angry words continue to flow. "I was supposed to be in Julliard. I was supposed to become something. Instead I became your… your doll! Locked away in a closet on some high, unreachable shelf."_

_ She shoved herself off the ground, striding over to the mirror that spanned the length of the small dance studio. He had built it for her. Given it as a gift for her birthday, the third one since he had taken her. Ballet slippers still hanging loosely in her hand, she stared at the reflection, imagining a time when she used to do this every day, to stand before a mirror such as this, and practice her craft till it was perfect._

_ But those days were so long ago._

_ Her eyes… they seemed so much more different. Her spirit and passion, gone, replaced with something weaker and dimmer. He had spent these years holding her in captivity, hollowing her insides out, leaving her as nothing but a shell. A shell which he used to build something new, something different._

_ Something that was no longer her._

_ A disgruntled sound came from the man behind her as he stood. "Really now, I have no idea what you are talking about. You never would have been able to _afford_ Julliard without me." Soon, she felt him standing behind her, his footsteps being so light that she almost had not heard them. "Tell me: would you rather have stayed in that small little hick town? Have nothing but that old empty house?"_

_ A lump slowly formed in her throat as her eyes continued to stay locked on the eyes reflecting back from the mirror before her. She remembered simpler days: days before she agreed to take that job from Archer. How stupid she had been: He used her then, and as soon as the chance presented itself, he snatched her away. _

_ "You _used_ me." Her words were distant, quiet. "You used a naïve, desperate young girl who needed money!" The angry whispers continued to pour out of the young woman standing before the mirror. "I never should have agreed—"_

_ "Quit being so dramatic—"_

_ "Dramatic!" She scoffed. "You tricked me into helping break out your team! 'Oh, you are the perfect size to fit into that shaft, and you're _flexible_, a bonus.' This wasn't worth Julliard! None of this is! Not the money, not the gifts, not the fucking attempt on my life—"_

_ "_Enough!_" Terror shot through her frame as he grasped her shoulders, squeezing them tightly. "We will not speak anymore on this matter." She finally noticed his eyes, reflecting in the mirror above her head as he stood directly behind her. They were angry. They were blazing. They were… dominant._

_ Her shoulders slumped, and she sort of curled into herself while he took a deep breath. "Now…" he began, the irritation evident in his voice. "Why don't we head back to the party? You can practice again later."_

_ "Yes, sir."_

_ Slowly, they began to walk to the door, one of his arms wrapped about her shoulders. He glanced down at her, a softer look overtaking his eyes. "I… you know I love you, right?"_

_ She allowed a meek glance up at him. "I love you, too." Her words were weaker than his, but he still seemed proud of them, nonetheless. As they left the room, she allowed a glance back, to look at her eyes in the mirror._

_ Her eyes looked so… broken._

* * *

"How in the hell did I let you talk me into this?"

"Oh hush, now." Genevieve continued to stand directly behind the young woman, running her fingers through the sides of Kara's hair as she admired her work from the mirror in front of the pair.

"I like it!" piped up John's voice from the side. "But I still think that she would have looked better with red—"

"For the _thousandth_ time," Genevieve groaned. "We _can not _dye her hair red!" Grabbing a brush and beginning to roughly pull it through poor Kara's hair. "Bleaching was the best option—"

"Yes, I _know_." Crossing his arms over his chest, lower lip sticking out as a child's would, he grumbled, "I still think she would look better with red…"

"Yeah, well, I want my black hair back." With a frustrated face, Kara leaned towards the mirror, raking her fingers through the foreign hair upon her head. The hair which once reach her lower back now only went to the middle of her shoulder blades, the piercing platinum blonde from the bleaching treatment making her feel so wrong.

Ignoring Kara's complaint about her hair, Genevieve delved straight into the matter at hand. "Are you sure you can trust it?"

"_It_ is a he, and _he_ has a name." With a sigh, Kara continued. "I don't know why, but I do trust him. He's an Autobot, and when those government drones attacked… he risked his tail a few times to get me out of harms way." Tilting her head up to lock her eyes on Genevieve's in the mirror, she boldly stated. "I trust him with my life."

A slight chuckle of amusement came from the woman. "You always were a strange one." Fingering Kara's hair again, Genevieve dropped her eyes to look at the top of the young girl's head. "You don't have to leave again. I sent you away to get you out of this type of life; to let you start fresh."

Swallowing a lump in her throat, Kara responded, "I don't think I can get anything fresher than a new identity… And I will be _traveling,_ Genevieve! You know how much I've wanted that… and its finally here." Closing her eyes, she whispered, "I can finally just _run. _Run and never look back."

Sadly, Genevieve responds, "I only hope that this can fix whatever _he _broke… Take it from me, running has never been the most sure fire of answers, child."

"I'm not a child."

A smile graced the older woman's face. "No, no you are not. But, do not get your hopes up: the Cybertronians have been in hiding for nearly three years. I have low hopes of you finding them, if there are any left."

A smirk formed upon Kara's lips. "And do we not have a top of the notch hacker just a few floors over? I have no doubt Renegade can get us into whatever system the government is using to track down the Autobots."

"Leave it to you, Pointe, to get into _this_ kind of shit." John interjected. Suddenly, a beep came from the monitor in front of him, and he announced "Renegade's finally done!" With a whistle, he added, "And I think she did a _marvelous_ job! Kept your hair color as black in case your roots start to grow out, but the picture is altered enough so that any average person wouldn't be able to make the connection of you and this identity."

Climbing off the chair, Kara scrambled over to the man to peer round at the screen. There showed an image: an altered picture of her, with a shade of black to her hair that was off from her normal color. Her eyes a bit duller, skin a bit tanner, and subtle little changes to her face shape. The rest of the info on the ID matched her fairly well as far as height and weight went, but the name…

"Like it? Made it up myself. Close enough to your real name so you won't forget it. And, I used the middle name you requested." Stretching his arms behind his head to lean back in his chair, propping his boot clad feet up on the desk, he announced, "No longer are you Kara Ragan Trainer. From now on, you are Claire Jaclyn Runner."

* * *

The field, once ablaze in fire, now sat with only a few smoldering embers. The house was nothing but a broken framework, no longer the home he remembered visiting in his younger years. The home of his childhood friend, one he had helped through many hard times.

This woman always had lies warped around her existence, but every time he thought he was another layer under, more layers made themselves known. More for him to tear off.

But now he feared he would never get the chance to reach her core.

Agents were scattered about the property, investigating every nook and cranny of the property. He knew he shouldn't be here, but he had to know. Ducking under the tape, he went rushing forward to stair at the debris of the devastated farmhouse. Soundly, agents swarmed up to him, a few even going as far as to draw their weapons. "Whoa, hey, hey! Take it easy, my friend lives here!"

"You knew the woman who owned this house?" The voice had come from a man off to side, one of the ones with a gun drawn. Dark tinted shades covered his eyes, and his trench coat seemed to flow about in the breeze.

"Settle down, Savoy," a new voice interrupted. 'We wouldn't want to accidentally shoot this man, now would we? Now everyone, get back to work!" At the sound of the new voice, all the men seemed to back down, though the 'Savoy' man didn't seem as inclined to listen. "Savoy! That includes you! Now, _move._"

And with one more glare, the man left, leaving the friend to stare at the newly approaching official, a tall man, one with military cut blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. His presence was intimidating, and screamed of command. "You knew her?"

Straightening his back, he tries to sound as demanding as he can. "Yes, I _know_ her, and I would like to know what in the hell is going on? She's had enough trouble, what have you gotten her into know?"

"Ah yes… the 'witness protection.'" The way the leader spoke of it sounded almost mocking, and with a smirk, he says his next words as if it were the most casual thing in the world. "Well, I regret to inform you that Miss Trainer is… no longer with us. My deepest condolences, Mr.… What is your name?"

Taken aback, he nearly stumbles as he responds. "Yeager… Cade Yeager… But she can't be dead. This has to be another incident, like last time! They told us she died and you had her in witness protection for all those years! She's not dead!"

"Sir!" a random yelled from off to the side. "We have the cellar open!"

Looking over his shoulder, the leader orders, "Well, don't just stand there! Go in!" Looking back to the distraught man, he finishes by saying, "I'm sorry for your loss. Now, I must ask you to leave the premises. Immediately."

"How did… How did she die?" Yeager muttered. 'She can't be dead… She isn't dead."

"A minor explosion from the house stove that caused an extensive fire." He began to turn away, and then paused to add, "And I can assure you Mr. Yeager. You will _never_ see her again."

With those words and that look in the man's eyes, Yeager _knew_ that he was lying.

An explosion came from the cellar, followed by the screaming of men. "So _that's_ where she kept her supplies… Please leave immediately, Mr. Yeager."

With that, he began to leave, as did Cade, but not before Cade yelled out, "Hey! What's your name?"

With barely a glance over his shoulder, the man simply replied, "Archer."

* * *

**So, whatcha think? Please, please, PLEASE, LET ME KNOW IF ANYTHING AT ALL IS CONFUSING. I need to know before I get too deep in the story to correct it if anything gets confusing cause this story is really involved with flashbacks and such. Everything will blend eventually, but I need to know soon if I need to better explain things.**

**Thanks for reading!**


	6. Second Position

_**Author's Notes:**_

**Reposting this due to a tiny error on my part that needed to be fixed.**

* * *

_It was the earlier days of the Cybertronians and humans. Back when the government had just started introducing groups of soldiers to work with these alien creatures. Back when they were still considered creatures, still new and unknown and foreign. _

_To Lennox, though, they were anything but foreign. He was still relatively young within the army, barely 23, but he felt so much… older. And as far as his relatively new relationship with the Autobots went, he felt as if it were infinitely longer than the new troops being brought in would have._

_But in reality, he had barely known them a week._

_Still, back to the matter at hand. His back straightened, his shoulders rolling as he stood at attention, observing the ceremony a hundred or so yards away. A general, one who had fallen during the Decepticons' first attack. He died to protect important and delicate information, to keep it out of enemy hands. He died in a way that the government deemed honorable._

_But one had to consider what he left behind._

_A low rumble came from the deep blue semi truck covered in red flame designs beside him, and soon, a man stood next to him. Dark brown hair, slightly shaggy with hints of silver creeping in, showing the relative age of the newcomer compared to the young soldier. "I still can't get used to these…holograms of yours."_

_A hum of acknowledgement was the most he received from the Cybertronian beside him. The dark, blue leather jacket, one with red flames detailing the sleeves to match his true form, that normally materialized over a white shirt and dark jeans had now been replaced with a proper suit: someone had versed him in proper human customs. Or, he had simply taken the time to look them up. Lennox would believe either._

"_How old are they?"_

_Lennox's gaze followed that of the alien general's hologram. The end landed upon two young girls, one of college age, the other, maybe middle school, but most certainly was she considerably younger. "Not sure, but they're not that old: the taller one is definitely an adult, though a young one, but the smaller one… she's just a kid."_

_A tired look passed over the hologram's face, mix with pain and sadness. Then, out of nowhere, he asked, "Would your government allow me to lay claim over the child?"_

_Taken back, Lennox asked, "What do you mean?"_

_Straightening his back, he explained. "On my planet, our young come from a place called the Well of AllSparks. When a new life crawls out, one can claim them as there own, to raise them until the day in which the sparkling becomes a fully grown mech, or femme, and can take care of themselves…" Sadness twisted his face. "I had always wanted to claim a sparkling, but by the time I was established enough to afford to care for one, the war broke out, and my attention was diverted elsewhere. Now… now, the Well is dead, and I will never get the chance."_

_Lennox was at a loss of what to say. "I'm… I'm sorry. But that's not how it works here." He looked back to the sisters. "Since their mother passed away a few years ago, custody would go to the older sister."_

"_She is under the influence of what your government deems 'illegal substances.'"_

"_Wait, what?" Lennox asked in shock. "How do you—" The slight glance from the corner of the hologram's eyes was enough of an answer to Lennox, who sighed. "Look, even if she is, our government wouldn't just give you the girl. She would probably just end up in a foster home…which isn't really a better alternative." With as much sincerity as he could put forth, he told him, "I'm sorry, Optimus. But you can't save them all."_

_The Cybertronian said nothing. He merely continued to watch the young girl below, as a single tear rolled down her cheek. But, the wind picked up, blowing her ebony colored hair about in her face, causing the tears to flow faster as the pastor continued to speak. _

_Not wanting to stand there any longer, the girl turned and ran, the small group of gatherers watching her run, but none stopping her. Blinded by tears, the girl did not notice the semi truck at the top of the hill, sitting unnoticed on the small road until she nearly ran into it. Choking back her sobs, she looked up to see a tall man in a suit standing next to it, a soldier armed and in uniform with him, both watching her with worried expressions._

"_Did you know my daddy?"_

_Looking at a loss for words, the tall man eventually kneeled down next to her. "No, I did not have the honor." Her head lowered as he continued. "But he was a brave man who saved many lives through his actions." Tilting his head to catch her eyes, he finished with, "Never forget that."_

_She sniffed, using the sleeve of her simple black dress to dry her eyes. "Can you drive me somewhere?"_

_Confusion crossed Optimus' face as warning signals passed through Lennox's eyes. "Where would you wish to go, child?"_

"_Anywhere but here."_

"_Uh, sir, can I just say—"_

_The prime used his hologram to go through the motions of opening the semi truck door for the young girl to clamber up into. "We will be back soon: do not worry, Captain."_

_ "But sir, you can't just take—"_

_ Lennox's words were ignored as Optimus' hologram climbed into the driver side of the cab, shutting the door, leaving Lennox and his panicked looks as he nervously ran his hands through his hair as the Autobot leader revved his engines. Once moving, he noticed the girl staring at him in a scrutinizing manner. "What is your name?"_

_ Still staring, she responded, "Just to let you know, if you turn out to be some creep, I have a stun gun in my bag."_

_ "Duly noted."_

_ "And pepper spray."_

_ "You are quite a well prepared young girl." _

_ She shrugged. "Emiline never drives me all the way to my dance class, and I have to walk from a bad side of town." A sad look crossed her face. "I never told Daddy…"_

_ Optimus could feel his spark twist for this girl as she continued to speak, her eyes looking out the window to watch the scenery fly by. "I never really got to see him much. My daddy. They kept calling him away. But…" Tears welled up in her eyes, which she quickly wiped away. "But he was still something. And he called all the time. He was all I had… because when mom died, I think my sister died, too." She pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging them close as a tear fell down her cheek. "I have nothing."_

_ "That is not true." Shocked eyes rose to meet his, and the two seemed to come to an understanding. Forgetting the warnings of Lennox before, Optimus radioed back to his team. "Ratchet, I am returning to base. Send someone to pick up Lennox."_

_ "_Why?" _came the response over his dash. _"What has happened?"

_"I have obtained a new member among our team. We shall both be arriving shortly." Shocked stuttering came from the mech on the other end before could be heard shouting orders to the others. "And Ratchet?"_

_ "_Yes, sir?"

_"I want you to make sure that everyone keeps an open mind, including yourself, old friend," Optimus warned gravely. "And prepare for opposition from the humans: they will not approve of the member I am bringing home."_

_ "_Optimus…" _Ratchet began. "_If it's a Decepticon—"

_ "What's a Decepticon?" the girl piped up, not knowing that the comm was on an open-air channel._

_ "Optimus… was that a—"_

_ "I shall be arriving shortly. Over and out." And with that, the Prime hung up on his medic._

_ Silence. That is, until the girl spoke up, her voice firm and assertive. "Kara. My name is Kara Ragan Trainer."_

_ Amusement filled Optimus' tone as he spoke in return. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Kara. I, am Optimus Prime. You, however, may call me Orion."_

_ Grinning, she cheerily responds, "Its nice to meet you, Orion! Now, where are we going? Who was that you were talking to? And what's a Decepticon?"_

_ A low chuckle escaped him. "I believe I should explain these things to you. Starting with who I am."_

_ Confusion and worry passed over her face. "I still have the stun gun."_

_ "I do not believe that will be necessary, Ms. Trainer," Optimus responded, a hint of a smile on his face. "But perhaps I should start by telling you about my home: Cybertron."_

_ "…Cyber-what?"_

* * *

How many years had it been? To a Cybertronian, this time is nothing compared to their life spans. Just another fleeting moment in an endless war spreading across the stars.

But for humans, this was another matter entirely. Six years since the order came. Six years since they made their decision. To choose these aliens, these creatures who brought war to their planet decades earlier, over their fellow humans.

Many of the Autobots applauded the decision. But one had always seemed a bit… tired when thirty nine year old Captain William Lennox unannounced his men's decision to follow the Autobots into hiding. He looked even more so as Lennox gave out orders, telling his men to quickly fetch their immediate family members, giving them the time constraint of half an hour to pack as they each left through the ground bridge.

But then he looked once more at the Autobot leader as he made his way through the bridge to fetch his wife and young daughter. The war-weary Prime looked so…

Lost.

The years had been hard. Food rationed due to the lack of funds to purchase it. The first year was spent at the unofficial hideout which Agent William Fowler had procured a few years back in case of something such as this. And now, the five long and tiring years at the permanent place of hiding, hidden deep within Earth under one of the many distant and rarely traveled Nevada mesas.

This was where they lived. Both Autobots and humans. Mothers and children. And endless expanse of hiding from the country Lennox had once fought to protect. All the while wondering when it would end.

And now they might have the answer.

"Are you sure these coordinates were right?" Sergeant Robert Epps. One of the many men Lennox could trust with his life. But, Epps certainly toped the list.

"Ratchet hasn't let us down yet." His eyes never left the road before him as he spoke into the radio. The Chicago street seemed near abandoned, the old, desolated building to his right looking as if no one had entered in years.

Except, apparently, his target.

Snickering came from the dash before him. "Still can't believe that one little human could cause them to get your government in such a tizzy."

Jazz. One of the many Autobots in hiding with them. And one of the two assigned to head out on this search with them. "Whoever he is, his information is invaluable." Starting to make his way out the driver's side door, he subconsciously reached for the handgun tucked into the back of his worn jeans. "And based on what he is leaking onto the internet, I'm sure he is on our side."

"No…" Jazz responded cheekily, straining on the 'o' sound. "He is on _our_ side. To him, you are just another human."

"Well, it's not like you can just _stroll_ in and talk to him." His words are irritated as he slams the door shut and begins to make his way to one of the boarded off doors on the side of the building.

Jazz's voice pipes up on his earpiece. _"You know what I mean. Just be careful." _Lennox huffed. Careful. From _Jazz_. But, before he could retort, the classic Jazz added, _"And hurry up before some punk tries to carjack me. A Porsche ain't exactly the best kind of vehicle to leave unattended on this side of town."_

Lennox merely shook his head before pulling out the firearm. Holding it at the ready, he lifted his free hand to tap three times on his earpiece. Soon after, a responding three taps came from Epps, signaling the go on his and Prowl's end. After a three-count mark, he moved.

Using all of his weight, he kicked through the boarded up door and burst inside, gun at the ready. Precise and careful movements to cover all his angles, he made his way in, searching for his target. Clattering and the clanking of metal came from ahead in the main bay area of the abandoned plant building, and soon, voices followed.

"Jackie! _Go!_"

Feminine. Panicked.

"But—"

Masculine. Worried. But an odd quality to the voice…

"Meet at the rendezvous!" The light patter of feet began to echo off the concrete, followed by the sound of his and what he presumed to be Epps heading towards the voices. "Wheeljack, _move!_"

Tires began to squeal as the main floor came into view, and he could see a slim, feminine shape clamoring up the stairs as an unfamiliar ebony and blood red Ferrari spun across the floor and over to a distant loading bay door.

"Shit!" Lennox began to bark into the communicator as he raced towards the stairs. "Prowl, Jazz, there's two of them! Black and red Ferrari, east side bay door—" A crash resonated through the building as the car in question rammed through the bay doors. "Hurry! We are in pursuit of a girl heading towards the roof!"

Letting his gun drop to his side so he could better run, he bolted up the stairs, Epps right on his heels. But this girl, whoever she was, was fast, darting up the stairs with graceful leaps while clutching what he could only imagine to be a laptop in her arms. Quick glances were occasionally thrown over her shoulder at the two pursuing men, but a hood had been drawn about her face from the old, worn hoodie she wore.

"Hey!" Lennox called out. "Hey, wait!" She continued to run. "We just want to talk!"

"Seriously, man?" Epps piped up from behind. "Ain't no girl with a bit of sense gonna stop and talk to the guy chasing her with a gun!"

"Do you have any better ideas?!"

A distant crash could be heard, and familiar Cybertronian cursing came over the line, followed by another voice. _"Jazz has been flipped on one of the main roads." _Prowl. _"I am still in pursuit, but I do not know for how long. This driver is of much higher skill than any human driver I have ever encountered."_

"Great," Lennox huffed as he finally reached the top of the endless stairs. "That means we _have_ to catch this girl."

Epps shoved him along. "Well, at least she doesn't have anywhere else to—"

His words halted, and both he and Lennox were at a loss for words. Standing before them, the tiny girl stood on the edge of an opening in the building's wall. Clutching the laptop in one arm, angling it behind her, while her other arm stretched before her, pointing a similar gun as to Lennox's at the pair.

"Not. Another. Step."

Her words… the power behind them could make a normal man pale. But, Lennox had never been a normal man. Carefully, he held his arms up in a "we mean you no harm gesture," letting the gun hang from one finger as he stared at the girl…

The woman. Her face, now clear, held more defined shapes and contours, showing her age, both physically and mentally. Late twenties, early thirties at the most, a messy braid which had numerous strands falling out hung down over right shoulder, the ends a pale blonde which eventually tapered into an ebony shine at the top. And, careening from the middle left side of her neck to trail down to the top of her sternum, a pale, pinkish scar, jagged and uneven. The wound looked as if it had been severe, and Lennox briefly contemplated how lucky this woman had been to survive such a wound.

A breeze came through the opening in the wall. Then, with her hood falling away, revealing her face and the panic in her eyes, so did his belief fall away that she was a threat to them.

Arms still in the air, he began to speak, cautious of his movements. "Look, we aren't here to hurt you. Watch!" Slowly, he bent down to the side lowering the firearm and placing it carefully on the ground. "See? No guns!"

She took better aim.

"You _want_ to get me shot, don't you?" Epps began to ask Lennox, in his normal banter voice, a coping mechanism he was known for in stressful situations. "Getting me nearly blown up by Decepticons every other week and having to hide and shit for all these years wasn't enough." Dropping his surrender stance and gesturing to the woman as he stared down his friend, he snapped, "Now I'm gonna die from being shot by little miss pixie girl over here."

"You two have serious issues…" The woman muttered.

"All I'm saying is," Epps continued to his friend as he casually, slowly lifting his arms back in the air, "If I die tonight, I'm gonna kick your ass."

"No one is going to die." Lennox's voice remained firm, his gaze traveling to meet the girl standing before him. Her nerves were still there, but now, a new emotion had crept its way into her eyes…

Curiosity.

Deciding to take advantage of this new discovery, Lennox began to speak to her. "Hey, my name is William Lennox. This idiot over here—"

"HEY."

"—is my friend, Robert Epps."

Her brows scrunched together as a look of contemplation passed over her face. "I know those names…"

"Yeah, yeah you probably do." Taking the slightest of steps forward, he continued to speak in quiet tones. "If you have been hacking the government's mainframe, you know that we worked with the Autobots." Another step. "We led N.E.S.T. And on the day they gave order to attack the Bots—" One. More. Step. "We ran with them. We live with them, and we could take you to them. They could _really_ use your help."

That's when she began to laugh.

"Three years… Three years of trying to track all of you down, and the minute we decide we don't need to find you, you. Find. Us." Her aim had gone a bit slack for a moment, but as Lennox tried to coax out another step, she took aim yet again, stiffening her stance. "We can't go with you, Lennox. Not just yet. We need more time…"

A distant engine hum began to build.

"_Lennox!"_ Prowl, speaking over the comm link. _"Lennox, I lost him and I can not find him, but I believe he is rounding about back to our original location. Secure the girl—"_

"You should step back." Her voice was calm.

"—_before he gets back—"_

"Its not safe." Her gaze locked onto Lennox's eyes.

"—_I think he might be—"_

"Just put down the weapon," Lennox told her, cutting off Prowl. "You don't have to shoot."

The engine hum grew louder.

Her gun lowered, but a smirk formed. She took a slight step back. "The gun is full of blanks."

Confusion passed over Lennox's face, and Epps spoke up. "Then why is not safe—"

"_Frag it, you two: I think the Ferrari is a Cybertronian!"_

They didn't have time to react as the familiar sounds of metal twisting against metal down on the ground where the loud engine hum had been coming from. The woman, without hesitation, turned and jumped out the opening, a slight shriek of excitement escaping her lips as her ebony and blonde hair streaked behind her, the tiniest glint of silver catching Lennox's eyes as a necklace became visible as she fell.

"Wait!" Lennox shouted, but it was to empty air. The pair rushed forward to look out the window, only to see a shocking sight:

The woman, sitting unharmed in the upraised palm of an unidentified Cybertronian.

Familiar black and blood red details ran along his frame, and his helm was an odd shape compared to most other Cybertronians the ex-military men had seen on Earth. The Cybertronian lifted his gaze to lock his optics onto Lennox's eyes and a familiar color—what he and the others in his unit had deemed Autobot Blue—emanated from the unknown's optics.

The Cybertronian then began to raise his blaster, eliciting a bunch of 'whoas' from Lennox and an "Ah, _hell _no!" from Epps, but the woman spoke up. "Jackie! Drop it!"

"But—"

"They're _N.E.S.T_, not the Cemetery Wind creeps." With a glare to the soldiers and a bunch of muttered Cybertronian curse words, the blaster was lowered while the Cybertronian clenched and unclenched his jaw. With a smile and a wave to the soldiers above, the woman yelled, "See you later, soldier boys!"

Then, the Cybertronian shifted back into his Ferrari alt mode, and the pair zoomed off, leaving the stunned Epps and Lennox standing in the opening, seven stories off the ground, wondering what in the hell had just happened.

* * *

"So… he just grabbed her and left."

"Yep." Stretching and then settling to lean against Prowl's alt, Epps added, "He almost shot us, too, if it weren't for that girl intervening."

An irritated sound emanated from Prowl. "It sounds like a rouge of Megatron's..."

"He was an Autobot."

Epps' eyes shifted to Lennox as Jazz spoke. "We don't _have_ any others on the planet that haven't been accounted for!"

"And are you _sure_?" Prowl countered. "He didn't have his marking, and Decepticons _have_ used humans in the past—"

"She was wearing his emblem," Lennox explained. "Strung it on a long chain and wore it like a necklace. Almost didn't notice it till she jumped."

Epps whistled. "Dang, he actually gave it to her?" He huffed, looking over his shoulder at Prowl. "You Bots nearly took our heads off when we suggested taking off your emblems."

Ignoring the jibe, Prowl simply responded, "The two must be considerably close for him to even _consider_ taking off his faction symbols."

"Yeah," Jazz chimed in. "Even _neutrals_ have an emblem. But giving it up, well, that would be like giving someone your dog tags: not a decision you make lightly. Though, I guess it's a good thing: that way the hacker could travel more discreetly. "

A sound of agreement came from the cop car. "Now, our only issue is determining the designation of this rouge, and exactly who we are dealing with."

"Does the name 'Wheeljack' ring any bells?" Both cars went silent, before each responded simultaneously.

"Oh, frag."

* * *

**In case you weren't sure, there has been a time skip. I have reasons! Ones that will make sense, I swear! **

**So, let me know what you think! Any confusions, any questions, just ask. Thanks! **


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